Run DMZ

My send-off went something like this: Husband: "You are being so stupid." Grandmother: "What the hell's the matter with you?" My husband was just worried. My grandmother was just herself, with wine. At almost 93, I'll cut her some slack. Still, their criticism of my planned solo hike up Iron Mountain may have been why I had butterflies approaching the entrance on Route 67 in Poway. I realized that I rarely do anything alone anymore, which is not uncommon for any woman that's been married and a mother for many years. This is a crowded trail, but not so this early in the morning. Temps still in the 30s guaranteed I wouldn't encounter many, if any, snakes and this trail isn't known for big kitty cats. It turns out I had the first half of the 3-mile climb completely to myself, and during that spell I dwelled on something else my grandmother said to me after learning I was still running. "Haven't you done enough damage?" This isn't t...

I'd been wanting for years to hike up to the Mount Woodson summit but never got an opportunity until yesterday. It was so worth the wait.   This is one of the more popular hikes in San Diego, but not nearly as popular as nearby Iron Mountain (which I've blogged about numerous times ) or Cowles Mountain (which I've never done). That may be because it's not an easy trek, but it's not super difficult either. You just need some stamina, a lot of water and conditioned glutes and quads to truly enjoy this 7-plus-mile course. Boulder fields mark the course. Mount Woodson Trail is distinguished by the many boulder formations. It's fun, especially on the ascent, to give some of the big rocks names. One that didn't make it into the blog (at least in this post) is called "Butt Crack." Another is referred to as "Potato Chip" and featured in the photo below. Yes, it's as scary as it looks if you suffer from a fear of heights. No w...

I convinced the family to forgo Black Friday for a hike along the Iron Mountain trail. This is a natural treasure just beyond the city of Poway and not far from my suburb. For those interested, go to the end of Poway Road and turn right on Rt. 67 or go to the end of Scripps Poway Parkway and turn left on Rt. 67. Look for the cars parked on the road near the trailhead. We ended up getting a late start due to a serious lack of water pressure in the house after we got back from Thanksgiving in "The OC," my parents' place in Orange County. It was sunny and warm Friday morning but quite manageable by the time we lined up along the road with at least a dozen other cars and set out around 9:30. Make no mistake, this well-groomed trail requires a lot of careful maneuvering around boulders, rocks and pulverized pebbles constantly undermining your footing. And it's a fairly steep climb, upping heart rates in an instant. We saw all different ages and body types trekking up and d...

I really thought by now I’d be pumped. Muscles primed. Limbs limber. Lungs ready for lower oxygen levels. Mental fitness at its peak. Alas, I have none of those things going for me. With 10 days until I board a Southwest plane for Denver, I have exactly one hike under my belt, and that was done yesterday because I had a rare Saturday morning off and decided to work out instead of sleep in. I chose Iron Mountain in Poway because it’s (a) only a 30-minute drive from my house, (b) always crowded on weekends so I’d never be alone and (c) still my favorite local trail . It was steep enough that I’d give the lungs and legs a good workout, yet gentle enough that I wouldn’t break bones if I fell. I needed to test my long-neglected gear (daypack, water bladder and spout, poles, shoes, socks, shorts, etc.) Happy to report everything worked as intended, though first thing I did upon getting home was tighten a pole screw that plagued me the entire time. So why haven’t I stuck with training promise...

After staying dormant all winter and, so it appears, most of spring, I’m returning to Run DMZ.  My love/hate relationship with digital life continues. Other platforms I started and must now maintain exhaust me, especially when algorithms make it hard to find posts from actual followers. This blog has the deepest digital roots, even if its format and platform are long past their prime. So today I will try to breathe a little more life into a dying form.  Poppies along the Dixon Lake shoreline Wild winter = wildflowers extraordinaire  This winter was wild here in California, with waves of wet weather known as atmospheric rivers pelting hillsides, forging new tributaries, drowning wildlife, knocking out bridges, closing roads, flooding beach boardwalks, and providing one of the most beautiful springs on record.  All that rain might have canceled weeks, then months, of outdoor plans, but once the weather pattern changed from cloudy with a chance of rain to just cloudy,...

...For this week, anyway. Iron Mountain Hike from Run DMZ on Vimeo . (Featuring my friend Maxine, who invited me on this hike the other weekend.)

Seasonal Affective Disorder is supposed to plague sunshine-deprived people who endure long winters, not here where the sun routinely works overtime to keep things clear and crisp. Yet as we emerge from the wet season, and I can now enjoy sunrise runs and energized evenings, I feel a little something stirring inside me: contentment. Until this week, I may have underestimated how down I’d been despite a job I love, a husband I adore and two grown children who continually do me proud. It is not, unfortunately, that way in the family I was born into, and as the oldest child I’m often saddled with situations well beyond the normal realm of dysfunction. For months now, when I could muster the energy to head out into the dark, I fantasized between footfalls about ways to put my former boss out of business or keep someone I love dearly out of jail. I’ll also have a new nephew this summer, if my troubled sister’s life-threatening illness doesn’t claim both her and the baby first. Nothing has ch...

...feel like we were meant for each other from the first time we met. ...supposedly know how to handle my formerly fractured hip, according to the guy at Movin’ Shoes. So far, he’s telling the truth. ...are allergic to fresh asphalt. ...have a hard time believing my first pair of running shoes came from a general store that sold far more food than footwear. ...want you to know I lie about my weight. ...seem far more punctual than I recall the Sauconys ever being. ...wanna know what’s up with the flabby arms. I mean, didn’t I use those "a-firming" crutches all summer? ...are as pissed as I am about that last parking ticket. ...ain’t buying that for my Confirmation during college, I was blessed with a brand new pair of Brooks instead of a Bible like everyone else. [True story, swear to God.] ...wish they went to the gym more often. I tried explaining that some of us have a job to do where we occasionally must work unexpectedly longer and harder, to which they responded: “Yeah,...

I'm not off to the best start for the new year. First of all, I fell asleep at 11 p.m. on Dec. 31. Watching some countdown on TV Land. Then I failed to do the one thing I wanted this holiday weekend. We were supposed to climb Iron Mountain as a family, and when the hike was pushed to this morning we added friends visiting from Colorado. I discovered they were coming when one of them called from the 5 freeway, about 20 minutes away. I was still in my pajamas and the house was a wreck as I handed the phone to my wonderfully absent-minded husband with a dirty look and, later, a few choice words (at blood-curdling decibels). It poured on and off, so instead of hiking everyone sat around watching Virginia Tech win the Gator Bowl, eating pizza and listening to me monopolize conversations. It's one of the few areas in which I truly excel. Soon as Zach and Elena were out the door, I was on my work computer and, despite my resolve to work less, found myself working on my day off. Writi...

We opted this year to spend our annual post-Thanksgiving family hike in East County, specifically in an area ravaged three years ago by the Cedar fire. The blaze would eventually consume a third of San Diego County, kill 14 people and come within a a couple of hundred yards of our own home well northwest of here. I was, of course, running when disaster hit. This one would have been easy to run, but my fellow hikers like to linger. I did too that weekend, given an earlier blood donation left me lagging physically for several days. At least this time my multivitamin and last-minute spinach-stuffing got me past the iron screening. We took two trails. One riperian, where we were cooled by a canopy of twisty oaks and the trickle of a nearby stream. The other was up to a rocky summit that proved far more difficult to reach, just as a hiking guide had warned. The last stretch is pretty much slick slate and loose gravel, with nothing for shoes to grab for traction. And if you do make it past t...